


lay your weary head

by thingbe



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage, Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:16:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingbe/pseuds/thingbe
Summary: Maybe, in the end, for all the character in faults and imperfections, some are worth leaving behind.





	lay your weary head

**Author's Note:**

> My eternal gratitude to kinneys and rainbowcasoup for their endless help and support. I've included links to the references I used for the house in the end notes. Title taken from the song 'Darling' by Zerbin.

There’s a storm brewing, clouds coming in massive and grey over the cornfields stretching horizon to horizon. The familiarity of it throws Jim; for a second he’s nine years old again, holed up in his room with the weather tracker he’d rigged up that summer, hijacking scans from satellites and sorting the data into a crude approximation of a storm map.

He’s a lot older now, a little more worn but _better_ by leaps and bounds, sitting up on the roof of the ageing house he’d once sworn he’d never see again.

“What in hell’s name are you doing up there?” The pure _disbelief_ in Bones’ voice makes him grin – he knows exactly the expression that’s on Bones’ face right now, even without looking, and knowing that warms something in his chest, something he can’t give an exact name to but he knows what it is, still; it isn’t unfamiliar, especially where Bones is concerned.

“I’m watching the storm come in, Bones; you should join me,” he calls down in reply, finally letting his gaze slide down from the distant stormclouds to look at the familiar lines of Bones’ scowl.

“Sorry, what was that? Sounded an awful lot like ‘I’m trying to break my fool neck, treating my mother’s house like my own personal jungle gym’.”

“Huh, really? I think we oughta get your hearing checked, you’re-”

There’s a distant _clang_ as Bones starts up the ladder, interrupting Jim at the same time to say “Yeah, yeah, I’m getting old, what else is new.” It puts an affectionate twist to Jim’s smile and he turns back to watch the clouds as Bones climbs, his progress marked by a series of metallic _clang_ s similar to the first, growing gradually louder.

A few moments later and Bones is settling down onto the roof at Jim’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jim leans into Bones’ arm, cuddling into his side, taking advantage of the warmth of another body as the wind starts to pick up.

“You didn’t have to come up, you know,” he says, his voice low. He tilts his head, tucking his face against Bones’ neck. His voice barely carries beyond the bubble of their personal space, his words dissolving in the wind.

“I know,” Bones says, just as quietly, pressing most of a kiss to Jim’s forehead. “Maybe I wanted to.”

Jim hums and brings his own arm around Bones’ back, turning to face the storm once again. The sky around them has started to darken as the clouds slide closer – there’s a deep rumble somewhere in the distance, at the very edge of his hearing, and he can’t tell if the goosebumps on his arms are from excitement or the sudden chill in the air.

There’s always a degree of surrealism to being in Iowa with Bones, to bringing him to the farmhouse; even now, when visiting his mom is almost routine and his bringing Bones is long since established as a given. It feels wrong in a way he can’t really explain, having Bones – the culmination of everything good in his life, the tangible proof that leaving Iowa was his first step towards happiness – in the place haunted by the ghosts of his childhood. On good days it’s a subtle discomfort, an itch in the back of his brain, but on bad days it’s everywhere, it’s every _thing_ – he feels like he’s going to crawl out of his own skin with it, with coming back to this place, which on some level will always be his _before_ , bringing along a piece of the happiness he never thought he’d have, much less deserve. And this... well, this isn’t one of the _good_ days.

He knows why it’s bothering him so much – he knows that it’s because they’ve just finished their final tour, accepting promotions and handing off the Enterprise to Spock. He knows that the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach isn’t just Iowa and the farm, it’s also about leaving that chapter of his life behind; leaving _space_ behind. He knows that it’s because this visit – no matter how _routine_ – is something like a bookend to that part of his life, coming to see his mom before returning to San Francisco and getting swept up in the chaos of the move, all of their free time getting swept up with them. No matter how much he tells himself that it isn’t really fair to think of it that way, that he’s always known it wasn’t – _couldn’t_ be – forever, the thought won’t stick as well as the feeling does.

He’s pulled away from his thoughts by Bones’ fingers slipping underneath the hem of his shirt, idly tracing circles into his skin. “Can’t say I’ve ever had sex on a roof, Bones, but for you I’m willing to try,” he says, trying and failing to hide his grin at the way it makes Bones scoff.

“Oh, good, so _both_ of us can fall and break our necks,” he grumbles, but his heart isn’t in it; if it were, he would have withdrawn his fingers, not brought his entire hand up Jim’s shirt, resting it right above the waistband of his jeans. He nudges Jim’s head off his shoulder, his mouth barely a centimetre from Jim’s ear when he murmurs “Nah, darlin’, I had somewhere a little warmer and a little less _imminently rainy_ in mind.” Bones’ free hand comes up to Jim’s chin and turns him for a kiss, and Jim knows that the shiver down his spine has nothing to do with the temperature.

They share a moment after pulling apart, with Bones’ fingers still on Jim’s chin, Jim’s eyes still closed and their breath warming the scarce air between them. Jim smiles; the restlessness he’s been feeling is quieter now; not gone by any means, but it’s barely more than a slight buzz at the back of his mind. Of course it stood no chance against Bones – none of his problems have for a long, long time.

“I _might_ be willing to let you show me where it is you were thinking of,” he says, his smile growing at Bones’ answering chuckle. Bones kisses him once more, briefly, before pulling away further and starting to stand. Jim’s side feels oddly cold at the loss of Bones’ hand, even under his sweater, but then that hand is held out to help him up, and Bones’ smile above him wipes all thought of coldness from his mind.

They get inside the house just before the rain begins and Jim pulls Bones into a slow, lazy kiss just inside the door. The storm lasts through the afternoon, into the evening and the small hours of the morning, but despite the howling wind, despite the lashes of rain on the windows and peals of thunder that shake the walls, its chill never reaches them.

 

* * *

 

Touring the campus is never anything but strange, verging on unsettling. Leonard feels his age more acutely than ever, surrounded by the youthful energy that stretches to fill every corner. And he’d felt old here as a _cadet_ ; he quietly rolls his eyes at himself, that well-worn part of him his grandmother used to call his old soul. _You want old_ , he thinks to the version of himself that felt ancient at 29, _take these joints for a ride_.

He’s lost track of the admiral’s speech, going on about the significance of the twisted hunk of metal and concrete that’s supposed to be some kind of sculpture, but he doesn’t feel too bad about it; this tour isn’t for his benefit anyways, and when he looks sidelong at Jim he almost grins at the look of complete, focused attention on his face. Almost. He’s pretty proud that he managed to catch himself on that one. He follows when they leave the sculpture, trailing a few steps behind as Jim chats with their guide.

It feels like they’re chasing ghosts; in a way they are, he supposes, both their own and others’. This building is named for that officer, who ‘died bravely in the line of duty after years of dedicated service’; this courtyard is where they had lunch with those classmates, who died senselessly above Vulcan before they even really had the chance to live. The Academy never felt quite right for Leonard after the Narada incident, a feeling he knows he isn’t alone in, and when he catches Jim’s eye a few minutes later he notices a flash of sadness in his smile before he turns back to the admiral.

The tour ends with the room that’ll be Jim’s office. At the moment it’s empty, the soft white walls and tile making it seem bigger than it is, vast without furniture to weigh it down – though it is pretty damn big, Leonard thinks. Bigger than Jim’s ready room or his own office were back on the Enterprise; he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s bigger even than their quarters were. It’s one of the things that keeps managing to surprise him about being back on Earth: just how much _space_ there is.

He wanders over to the far wall, floor-to-ceiling windows showing off a picturesque view of the campus. It’s kind of a shame Starfleet Medical’s in the other direction, he thinks ruefully; Leonard already knows he’s going to be spending too much time staring out in this direction from the windows of his own brand new office, it would’ve been comforting to know Jim would be doing the same.

He loses track of how long he stands there, staring out at the Academy, before Jim’s at his left side, companionably bumping their shoulders together. A glance over his shoulder tells him they’re alone in the room, the door closed; he does feel a little bad that he was too distracted to thank the admiral for the tour and say goodbye.

“Too bad I can’t see Medical from here,” Jim says, and Leonard’s pretty sure he falls a little more in love.

“So, _Professor_ , what do you think?” he asks, smiling when Jim shoves at him.

“That’s ‘Admiral’ to you.” Jim’s indignant tone is at odds with the arm that snakes around Leonard’s waist, and it has his smile widening. “It hasn’t really changed, even though it kind of has.”

“You want me to call you ‘sir’, darlin’, all you gotta do is ask,” he drawls, finally uncrossing his arms from his chest to loop one around Jim’s shoulders, turning to kiss his cheek as they both laugh. “But yeah. I know what you mean.”

They share a quiet, contemplative moment, leaning into each other and looking out at the campus spread below them. There’s a lot they could say – there’s a lot Leonard _wants_ to say, about change, about life, about growing older, but he can’t settle on the words. It isn’t long before the moment’s passed; glancing to the side and meeting Jim’s eyes, though, he thinks maybe some things don’t need to be said after all.

Jim takes his time taking Leonard in, and Leonard lets him, feeling no urgency to leave the calm moment they’ve built for themselves. Jim’s free hand, his left, reaches up to Leonard’s face, and he leans into it at the feeling of Jim’s ring against his cheek. The smile that elicits from Jim is irresistible, and before he knows it he’s leaning in for a kiss.

It’s slow and lazy, lingering, first the simple brush of their lips against each other, then an increasing pressure, firmer with every passing second. Before long, they’ve turned to face each other more fully, Leonard’s hands on Jim’s shoulder, in his hair, Jim’s steady against his cheek, on his hip. They don’t pull away to breathe, instead sharing the same air as they breathe into each other’s mouths, the warmth of Jim’s breath and light, teasing hints of his tongue combining to drive Leonard crazy.

He does actually pull away, eventually, when he starts getting worried that the dizziness is more oxygen deprivation than arousal, but one look at Jim – at half-lidded eyes, at his lips red and tilted into a smile, at his flushed cheeks – does a lot to reassure him that yeah, it’s not his breathing.

Jim leans forward, kissing the corner of Leonard’s mouth briefly before murmuring “Thai for dinner?”

It makes Leonard laugh; a bit harder than is warranted, maybe, but Jim grins in turn all the same, and that just lights up his universe.

“Sure, Jim,” he says, tucking a lock of hair away from Jim’s forehead, “whatever you want.”

They grab takeout on their way home, and Leonard thinks that this isn’t something he’ll mind getting used to.

 

* * *

 

Their house – their _home_ – is a light blue, slanted bay italianate, tucked into a quiet street away from the downtown core. Something about the Victorian exterior appealed to Jim in a way he can’t quite fix on; he brought it up to Bones, once, in a joke about how he must just be drawn to old things. Bones had called him a brat but still kissed him, and he’d definitely been grinning, so Jim feels confident counting that one as a win.

Despite the exterior, it comes equipped with all the modern necessities – except a food synthesizer, because Bones insists that as long as there’s dirt beneath his feet and a kitchen at his disposal, they’re only eating ‘real’ food, this still even when Jim points out that the molecules are all the same anyway. Bones ends the debate by blowing him – to distract him, really, Jim thinks, but it’s a pretty convincing argument and thus, the synthesizer doesn’t come up again. Jim feels a little sorry for the house, that it’s been gutted so that they can have the conveniences they’re used to. Sometimes he rests a hand against the wall, hoping to... connect somehow, he supposes, with the house’s history.

The thing is, he knows how it feels to carry the weight of years, of both yourself and others; he knows what it is to be worn down, worn through by the passage of people. To be one stop, to be temporary. People have inhabited Jim’s life like they inhabit a house, leaving a creak to the floorboards and faults worn into the wiring; never staying permanently, moving in and back out when the time comes, never returning, because Jim Kirk was a phase the same way a house is. Get what you need from it in the moment and move on; a limited timeframe of relevance.

But – and this is the part of the metaphor he holds a little closer to his chest, the part that feels so fragile that to think too deeply about it would have it dissolve into nonexistence – he’s been rebuilt, too. Bones managed to find something worth loving in the worn-out wreckage that he’d felt like he’d become, that he’d resigned himself to spending the rest of his life as. Bones took his creaky floorboards, the places that couldn’t be pushed too hard without reliving those aches; took his bruises both physical and not and healed them, so slowly that he hadn’t even realized it was happening until someone _pressed_ and he found himself bracing for a reaction that never came. Bones had taken one look at his wiring and said _I can fix this_ and the craziest thing is that he _did_ – he found the lines that lead to Jim’s heart and fixed them up one by one, until Jim loves easily, smoothly, like it’s something that comes naturally to him. Like it’s something that always did.

When he puts his hand to the wall, he wonders what this house was before it was hit by modernity – where were its creaks, its faults? What were its peculiarities, its eccentricities, its distinctive, defining characteristics? But then he thinks of himself before Bones – and he thinks, maybe this house wasn’t gutted and replaced after all. Maybe it was renewed with a fierce affection; maybe it was made into what it is through the love of its inhabitants.

Maybe, in the end, for all the character in faults and imperfections, some are worth leaving behind.

 

* * *

 

Leonard’s favourite part of the house is the backyard.

It’s surprisingly large; larger than he’d expected at first sight of the house itself, at any rate, which from the street looks too narrow to accommodate much of a house at all, much less an actual backyard. Not that it’s particularly big in the grand scheme – like the house itself, it’s just big enough for the two of them with a little extra.

The house is three storeys – most of the bottom level is taken up by the garage, the rest with a living room, and it all opens out through glass doors into the backyard. From the doors comes the stone tile patio, home to an outdoor sofa set and a small outdoor fireplace, all of which is largely overshadowed by the deck above, which exits off the kitchen. The upper deck houses the barbecue and the porch swing, itself surrounded by the small army of potted plants they’ve received as housewarming gifts over the last few months. The lawn extends from the edge of the patio to all corners of the fence – except along the western edge, a space completely taken up by Leonard’s garden.

It’s his pride and joy – or it will be in the spring, when he can really get into it. He’s got plans, an entire layout ready in his mind; he knows where the vegetable patch will be, out on the end where there’s a stretch of dirt that ranges from full sun to partial shade, under one of the few trees on the property. At least he’s got the winter to get a good fence up.

He turns back to the task at hand – transplanting the honeysuckle vine from the back fence to the newly-installed arbour at the mouth of the path around the side of the house. He’s glad the thing is only a few years old; there wasn’t much to cut from the fence and the roots weren’t too deep, and not for the first time he’s thankful that the San Francisco fall doesn’t involve temperatures low enough to freeze the soil.

He’s almost finished – just has to get soil over the roots in their new spot – when he hears the living room door slide open, then closed, and when he looks over his shoulder it’s to see Jim approaching, a curious smile on his face and a glass of water in his hand.

“What’re you doing?” Jim asks, and Leonard turns to accept the water. He gulps it down in one breath, wiping his mouth against the back of his forearm and rolling his eyes at how Jim’s smile has become a smirk.

“Planting the honeysuckle. It’ll get more sun here, and now we won’t have to worry about neighbours complaining about it,” he says, making a face at the thought of the vine running rampant over a shared fence.

Jim’s smile grows – ever since they moved in from the apartment they’d kept around for stopovers on Earth, he’s been nothing short of delighted over Leonard’s enjoyment of gardening.

“How Southern of you, Bones,” Jim says, and Leonard rolls his eyes at him, handing him back the glass and grabbing the shovel.

“Hey, it’s good enough for Faulkner, it’s good enough for me.” He glances back over and Jim’s half-hiding his grin behind his fist. “‘The twilight-coloured smell of honeysuckle’,” Leonard supplies after a moment, turning back to the work at hand.

“Where would that be from again?”

“Sound and the Fury.”

“Of course.” Jim doesn’t bother hiding his laughter, but Leonard doesn’t mind – it isn’t mocking, it isn’t malicious. It’s just _happy_ , and beautiful, better than any music he’s ever heard. He can’t help but smile in response, Jim’s happiness infectious.

But, well, they wouldn’t be them if they weren’t bickering. “You gonna grab a shovel, there, darlin’, or were you planning on mocking my taste in literature all day?”

Jim laughs again, the sound making Leonard’s own smile twitch a little wider. “Hey, I appreciate Faulkner as much as the next guy; not enough to _quote_ him, maybe- hey!” he interrupts himself with a yelp when Leonard grabs a pinch of dirt and flicks it at him. “Wow, Bones, now I have to take a bath.”

Leonard glances over, his eyebrow rising at the sight of Jim, still immaculate, before getting back to work. “Yeah, you’re downright filthy,” he says, ignoring the way Jim’s warm chuckle sparks something low in his stomach.

Jim comes up beside him, kissing his cheek and mumbling “Only for you,” almost directly into his ear, laughing when Leonard half-heartedly swats at him. Jim rests a hand at the small of his back for a brief moment, long enough to say “I’m gonna take that bath. Feel free to join me.”

He pats Leonard’s ass before leaving, and Leonard turns to watch him go – the sway to his hips is appreciated, if a little excessive, but like hell if it doesn’t put him in a hurry to finish up.

 

* * *

 

Jim’s watching the sunset when Bones finds him, quietly sitting beside him on the porch swing and handing him a beer. It’s been an unseasonably warm day – even Bones is in a t-shirt, and Jim takes the opportunity to admire his arms before taking a sip of his beer. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to consider the fizzle of it against his tongue, its cold, almost sweet flavour giving way to a familiarly tangy aftertaste.

He smiles when he feels Bones’ arm settle across the back of the swing behind him and opens his eyes to look over at him – getting lost, for a moment, in the way the sunset shines against his eyes – before saying “Hey,” bringing his hand to curl around the back of Bones’ head, pulling him into a kiss.

“Hey yourself,” Bones says, his voice rumbling low in his chest. The smile against Jim's lips has him smiling in turn, gently running his fingers through Bones’ hair. Bones’ hand slides from the back of the swing to rest on Jim's shoulder, rubbing circles against the fabric of his shirt.

“‘So doth the woodbine the sweet honeysuckle gently entwist’,” Jim murmurs, kissing Bones again when his hand squeezes Jim’s shoulder, pulling himself further into Bones’ side.

Bones chuckles and presses a final, fleeting kiss to Jim's lips before pulling back to take a drink of his beer, eyeing Jim with a small smile as he does.

Jim pulls back further, removing his arm from around Bones and settling with his head resting against Bones’ shoulder. He takes another sip of his beer – there’s a wet ring around his knee where he’s been holding it, the condensation slipping down the bottle and onto his jeans. He slides his thumb across the label, wiping droplets of water away and watching as, slowly, they collect there again. Looking out at the backyard, at the start of Bones’ garden, at the city in the distance, he finally feels that settled peacefulness that he hadn’t even realized he’d been chasing.

They share a long, quiet moment, drinking their beers and staring out across their backyard. Jim likes to think that Bones is also contemplating the life they’ve built, that they continue to build, though it’s just as likely that he’s making plans for his garden, which Jim decides after a moment is more or less the same thing. He turns, then, to break the silence somehow – ask Bones what he’s thinking, maybe, or even just say ‘I love you’ – but Bones catches his eye, _winks_ , and downs the rest of his beer in one go.

It makes Jim laugh, and he can’t really pin down the reason – but with the grin it brings to Bones’ face, the reason _why_ doesn’t really matter. Still smiling himself, Jim downs the rest of his own beer and sets the bottle down on the deck, not really caring whether it stays upright or falls to its side. Within a second, he’s pulled himself upright, lifting and swinging his leg over Bones’ lap to straddle his thighs; Bones’ free hand automatically settles on his leg, supporting him, even as he makes a surprised noise, his eyes widening a fraction.

Jim takes immediate advantage of being face-to-face, pulling Bones up into a fierce kiss, ignoring the way Bones laughs in favour of nipping at his bottom lip. It seems to be enough to convince him, going by the sound of Bones’ own empty bottle hitting the deck, his newly-freed hand mirroring the other by settling on Jim’s outer thigh as he sighs into the kiss.

They kiss for a long while – Bones slides his hands up and down Jim’s thighs in a way that he suspects is meant to drive him crazy, his only evidence being that it does. His own hands cupping Bones’ face, he moves their mouths together in slow, arrhythmic shifts of pressure, occasionally taking advantage of the way Bones catches his breath without really pulling away by sliding their tongues together, briefly, before pulling back again. Bones seems happy to let him control the pace of the kiss, and it makes his heart twist, to think that it’s just another way that Bones follows him, wherever he goes.

He pulls away in slow, gradual increments, a smile blooming on his face as he does. Pressing their foreheads together, he catches his breath a little and clears his throat lightly.

"‘Either some very dear person or some very dear place seems necessary to relieve life's daily grey, and to show that it is grey. If possible, one should have both’,” he recites, pressing his lips to the corner of Bones’ mouth with barely enough force to be called a kiss before pulling back again.

“You and your words,” Bones says, chuckling, his thumbs finding their way beneath Jim’s shirt, sliding back and forth on the skin above his waistband.

“Much as I’d like to take credit for them-”

Bones interrupts him with a kiss, pausing only long enough to mumble “You make ‘em yours, darlin’,” against his lips.

It’s a sentiment that almost leaves his chest buzzing – he suddenly feels like he’s 23 again, a kid determined to take on the world, starting to fall in love with his best friend and lost for what to do with it. It’s exhilarating, in an oddly foggy, nostalgic way. It has him pushing forward to kiss Bones again – to kiss his _husband_ again, and again and again, finding peace in the hands on his hips and the mouth moving against his own.

And in that moment – with the sun setting behind them, on the back porch of their house, making out like they’re young, like the past thirty years have been nothing but a dream – Jim knows there’s no place he’d rather be.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Bones is indeed quoting _The Sound and The Fury_ by William Faulkner; Jim is quoting, in order, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ by William Shakespeare and _Howards End_ by E.M. Forster.
> 
> So, references: first, [here's](http://www.rynersonobrien.com/facades/restoration-italiante-sanfrancisco/D33a.jpg) a basic idea of what the house looks like. [This](https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5468083be4b06c4ea4b49a81/t/553aad72e4b0553f497675ef/1429908856994/) is a good generic illustration of what exactly a slanted bay italianate is. The floor plans I referenced the most are [here](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/c7/54/26/c75426fecd3c3ae4d537c8c3518343ae--home-design-plans-queen-anne.jpg), [here](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/c7/54/26/c75426fecd3c3ae4d537c8c3518343ae--home-design-plans-queen-anne.jpg), and [here](http://hookedonhouses.net/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/Full-House-Victorian-Floor-Plans-1709-Broderick-San-Fran-e1464356604572.jpg). [This](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/03/3d/e5/033de514954fc9d6d38a9b2ffea64bb3--townhouse-garden-townhouse-yard-landscaping.jpg) is basically what I was going for with their backyard, and [this](https://d6c2694094b50114857c-340e27ca0577af7461acc2606eff86ab.ssl.cf5.rackcdn.com/461267-residential-1aqii7v-o.jpg) is a basic idea of what the layout is like from the other direction.
> 
> All kudos and comments are, of course, endlessly appreciated, and feel free to come say hi on [tumblr](http://thingbe.tumblr.com)!


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